Toujours Pur
by PinkSkyyy
Summary: Not much is known about the life and death of Regulus Arcturus Black.
1. I: Kiss With a Fist

10 year old Regulus Black was a sullen boy. He held much resentment in his heart. Most of it, directed to his mother, Walburga. It went without saying, of course, that a portion of that hatred was directed at his older brother, Sirius, Walburga's golden boy, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius was treated like a king, and he looked like one too. Even at a young age, the aristocratic and attractive features that defined the Black family was evident on the older boy's face. He had a casual elegance to him, from his curly, shoulder-length black hair down to his toes. He was often dressed regally, in the finest materials that money could buy. His eyes, unlike the rest of the family's, were silver-grey and framed by long, dark eyelashes.

Their mother and father took him to parties, sent him on playdates with children of other respectable pure-blood families and let him do whatever he wanted. Regulus, on the other hand, practically didn't exist. He couldn't remember the last time Mother had let him out of the dingy old house they lived in. The only people he ever met were close family members who came by often to have dinner at Grimmauld Place.

That was another thing Regulus was sulky about. Mother had drummed into him and Sirius that they heralded from the most powerful and richest pure-blood family to ever exist. Often, Mother went on and on about how the Black family could trace its genealogy back centuries and how every single person in that family was of pure blood. She'd told them that to be Black meant that they were practically royals, and that Sirius was the next King. And yet, they lived in this oversized, moth eaten townhouse, tucked away between a row of Muggle townhouses. If they were royalty, surely they deserved a palace.

Sirius had mentioned to him before that the paterfamilias of House Black, their grandfather Arcturus Black III, lived in a huge manor somewhere in Scotland, and that their land flowed over the hills and glen. Regulus had never been there before - Mother hadn't thought him important enough to introduce to the Head of the family, unlike Sirius who went there every year for the Black Family's traditional Yuletide Ball.

But if there was something that Regulus was most envious about, it was James Potter. James Fleamont Potter, son of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter was their second cousin, once removed on Mother's side and twice removed on Father's. Their great-aunt Dorea had married Fleamont's older brother, Charlus, and since the Potters were pure-blood, she hadn't been blasted off the family tree. Regulus remembers the very day when Dorea came to visit the family at Grimmauld Place - the first time she mentioned that she had a nephew the same age as Sirius. Regulus didn't know then, but that was the very day that led them down this slippery road. He didn't know that the simple suggestion by their kind grand-aunt would lead to him losing his brother.

It'd been almost 3 years now, that Sirius and James had been best friends. Regulus could remember when it used to be Sirius and him against the world, brothers and best friends forever. Now it was Sirius and James, and Regulus was left alone at home with only Kreacher to entertain him. Sirius wasn't unkind to him - much to the contrary, Sirius was still close to him and was still very much a great brother. But Regulus didn't have any friends, and he couldn't help but feel jealous of his brother and his adventures at the Potter estate.

It didn't help that Sirius was 11 this year, and so was James, which meant that they'd be off to Hogwarts come September. Now, Regulus wouldn't even have a brother who'd sneak into his room every night and tell him stories of the old manor houses and lush gardens that he visited with Mother and Father as the Heir Black.

Everything changed on 2nd September 1971. Mother had been awaiting Sirius' owl about his first day at Hogwarts. She had been bragging and boasting about how the Heir Black would have the entire Slytherin House under their thumb, how he'd be royalty there too, especially since he'd been paraded around previously. Every pure-blood child grew up knowing of Sirius Orion Black, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. But Regulus' shock when he heard his mother's strangled scream upon seeing the letter was nowhere near close to what he felt when he heard that his brother had been sorted into Gryffindor.

Sirius Black, son of a long line of pure-blood Slytherins, heir to a family that was as dark as they came, was in Gryffindor House. _Oh the shame._

Mother cried for hours before she worked up the strength to send her son a Howler describing how he was a shame to the family name and that she knew she shouldn't have let him befriend that _Potter_ boy. She spat the word out like it disgusted her, and if Regulus was being honest, it probably did.

Of course, in hindsight, Regulus wasn't even sure why he was shocked. Behind his brother's perfect life, there was a side that was hidden to everyone, even family. Sirius was light in a sea of darkness. He had never agreed with mother's views on blood purity and was extremely vocal about it. Regulus couldn't count the number of times Sirius came into his room with a slight limp or a split lip after one of Mother's numerous house parties. Regulus was never allowed to attend, but he'd hear everything about it from Sirius. His brother never told him about his arguments with Mother, but Regulus could hear every spiteful word and every painful blow that came from the kitchens below.

To the outside world, Sirius was the perfect pure-blood heir, but Regulus knew that Sirius hated it. He hated their family ideals and beliefs. He hated their cousin Bellatrix, who would never stop talking about the Dark Lord and how he was the perfect champion for blood purity. But most of all, he hated their mother, who had hexed and jinxed and even physically hit him for as long as he could remember, simply because he didn't think that Muggles were all that bad.

And so, it was on 3rd September 1971, that for the first time in a long while, Walburga Black turned her eyes to her younger son, dressed him in the finest silk robes and presented him to Arcturus Black III. That day marked the beginning of a year long effort by Mother to showcase Regulus as the new Heir Black. Everywhere he went, he was constantly reminded of how much he looked like Sirius, except the eyes - he had the traditional Black family eyes, dark and brooding. Personally, Regulus thought that Sirius had a certain elegance to him that probably came from being the firstborn, something that Regulus would never have. He was invited to parties and balls and received long lectures from his mother about the importance of blood purity. Regulus had never met a muggle or muggle-born before, so he honestly had no opinions on the matter. But Regulus had seen what had become of Sirius, and he would've much rather shut his mouth and nod his head at everything Mother said, than be forced to endure the beatings and abuse that Sirius did.

When Sirius returned in the summer of 1972, he was treated with disdain. Locked in his room half the time, beaten whenever he said anything out of line, Sirius left Grimmauld Place a whole month before the new school year started. He didn't say where he was going, but Regulus knew that he'd be with James Potter, his best friend and fellow Gryffindor. Whilst he was home though, Sirius tried to be a good brother. He constantly tried to sneak into Regulus' room to tell him stories of Hogwarts and his adventures with all his friends. He was hurt that his brother never replied any of his letters, but Regulus' sad face told him that the younger boy hadn't even received them. Mother had torn any letter that Regulus received from his brother, refusing to allow their last hope for a perfect heir to be sullied by Sirius' muggle-loving tendencies. Their mother soon found out about Sirius' night time trips to Regulus' room and the punishment that followed left the older boy unable to move for a whole day. Their father had taken pity on Sirius and healed most of his more serious injuries. The next day, Sirius was gone.

With that, Regulus Arcturus Black became the perfect heir that Walburga had always wanted. After the holidays, his parents had sent him to Platform 9 ¾ and had even settled him down in a carriage occupied by a few older Slytherin students, including his cousin Narcissa and her betrothed, Lucius Malfoy. Much to Mother's delight, he was even sorted into Slytherin House and had befriended several children that were heirs to other pure-blood families that were predominantly Slytherin.

Regulus had thought that being at Hogwarts with his brother would finally allow them to interact without the threat of punishment from their mother. But nothing could have prepared Regulus for the great rivalry between his and his brother's Houses. He had always known that Slytherins and Gryffindors generally hated each other. Sirius never personally did anything to him, no one did. But the animosity between the houses made it impossible for them to communicate without becoming social pariahs. And Regulus soon found out that one wrong move and a sneaky snitch from Slytherin House will go tattling to their mothers about how the perfect Regulus Black was fraternising with the enemy. The rumours would reach his mother's ears and he would receive a strongly worded letter and a promise of punishment the next time they met.

So, Regulus went along, trying his very best to enjoy life at Hogwarts. He soon made some friends whom he genuinely liked and whom Mother approved, and he began playing Quidditch, which he found himself enjoying immensely. His talents as a seeker did not go unnoticed, especially by his Potions teacher Horace Slughorn. Regulus was soon inducted into the prestigious 'Slug Club'. Created by Professor Slughorn, it was an elite club of students that he handpicked, identifying them as those he potentially thought would have an outstanding future in various fields. Regulus had been selected because of his talents as a seeker as well as the fact that he was heir to the extremely important House of Black. His life continued fairly normally since then, and whilst he did not feel particularly strongly about the whole blood purity situation, he still wasn't inclined to make himself a social outcast, so he went along with what his family and friends preached to him.


	2. II: Dog Days are Over

Once again, everything changed in the summer of 1976. Regulus had returned home from his visit to Malfoy Manor, where his cousin Narcissa now resided, to loud shouts and screams coming from the dining room. He heard his mother's screechy voice yelling at the top of her lungs, Sirius' own screams matching hers in volume. Regulus inched closer to the room. Just as he reached the open door, he heard something he never thought he would.

" _Crucio!"_

And Sirius went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting the floor as he writhed in pain. His screams echoed as tears ran down his cheeks that were littered with scratches and bruises. Regulus didn't know how long his mother tortured his brother, he was shell shocked. His mouth hung open as his brother tried his best to contain his screams, his body contracting into a rigid position. He barely registered the insults flying out of Mother's mouth. When it was over Walburga stormed out of the room, not even noticing Regulus by the entrance. There was silence for a few minutes before a loud bang could be heard from the drawing room above.

Sirius picked himself up, walking shakily to the door. Only then did Regulus snap out of his stupor, rushing to help his older brother up the stairs. It took both boys a good 20 minutes to get to the topmost floor, where both their bedrooms were located. They passed by his room, which was marked by a sign barring entry to anyone else, and moved on to Sirius' room. His older brother's door held a simple sign with his name, plain and undecorated.

Regulus scrunched his nose as he took in the decor of Sirius' bedroom when the boy opened his door. Whilst Regulus' room was neat and clean, Sirius' was loud and messy. The older boy's room was glaringly red, with pictures of muggle vehicles and girls stuck to the walls. Every cloth in the room seemed to be red or attached to something red, except for the wine-coloured velvet curtains that were the norm in every room in Grimmauld Place. Large Gryffindor banners were stuck at every corner and over the bed, as if Sirius had placed them there with the sole intention of mocking their mother. The older boy looked at Regulus, his grey eyes filled with pain and unsaid words. He muttered a quick " _I'm sorry"_ before he shut the door in Regulus' face.

Regulus did not think too much on it, his brother probably wanted some time alone, especially after what happened. He returned to his room and frowned slightly. He did not like how disorganised and bold Sirius' room was, but at least it was his. Regulus' room was very.. Black. His room had the same wine-coloured curtains, but his sheets were green and grey. Emerald and silver hangings were tastefully placed all around his room, and above his bed was the Black Family crest - large and painstakingly hand painted, with the family motto " _Toujours Pur"_ painted in elegant script below it. Everything in his room had been a product of Mother's suggestions. All he had for decoration on his walls was a single picture of the Slytherin Quidditch Team that had been taken the previous year, with Regulus, as Seeker, in the middle.

It was only later, at dinner time, when Regulus' gut feeling that something was terribly wrong was proven true. Mother carried on with her daily routine as if Sirius hadn't existed, and the empty seat beside Regulus had always been empty. Her eyes were puffy and an occasional sob would escape her thin lips, but any emotion was quickly replaced by the perfect pure-blood mask that Regulus had seen so often on his fellow Slytherins. Father didn't say much, but he kept his eyes downcast, only once glancing up to share a sad look with Regulus. Sirius was nowhere to be found. After dinner, Regulus walked up to the drawing room - he had an inkling of what the blast from earlier in the day meant, but he really did not want to believe it. He slowly stepped into the room which held the old tapestry detailing the Black ancestry down to the 13th century. He traced the line down from Phineas Nigellus Black to Sirius II to their grandfather Arcturus and Father. He stopped at his picture with his name painted in a ribbon just below it, staring at the burn mark beside it that once used to be a painting of his brother's handsome face. Now, all that was left was a black hole and a gold ribbon painted below holding Sirius' name.

Regulus gasped. Mother had disowned Sirius. He rushed up to the top floor and knocked on Sirius' door. Regulus pushed it open when there was no reply. The room was still as obnoxiously loud as it had been earlier that afternoon, but now it was empty. The clothes and robes that littered the floor and chairs were gone. The bed was made, as it so rarely ever was, and the velvet curtains were drawn, revealing the sheer drapes behind them. Regulus slumped to the floor, his black curls hanging low on his face. Sirius was gone, and Regulus did not think he would ever be back. Tears rolled down his face as he confronted what this truly meant - with Sirius gone, there was no buffer between mother and him.

He was now the true Heir and his every move would be watched with greater interest. Whilst he'd been treated as such for quite a few years now, Regulus knew that Mother always held on to the hope that Sirius would come around. Despite their disagreements, he knew that Mother had always had a soft spot for her eldest son, which probably explained why she'd let him stay on for that long. Regulus had no doubt that had he been the one sorted into Gryffindor, spewing muggle-loving values all day, Mother would've disowned him in a heartbeat, the moment she received that dratted letter the day after his sorting. But he could no longer avoid his mother's words by hiding behind Sirius' mistakes. No, Mother had been pushing him to follow his cousin Bellatrix, but he'd always avoided it by turning her attention to yet another of Sirius' misdemeanours. Now, he'd have no reason not to heed his mother's words and bend the knee to that crazed megalomaniac. He'd be forced by his mother and served on a golden platter by his deranged cousin to receive that godforsaken mark on his arm, and then there'd be no turning back.

Regulus wished he was brave like his brother. He wished he could endure the abuse and torture that Mother had put Sirius through. He wished he had said something earlier. Regulus' decision to follow his mother's wishes had led him to this. He never knew why Sirius had left, why Mother had disowned him and why that argument even started. He'd always assumed it was because Sirius did yet another thing to showcase his love for muggles. Now, he think he knew why. He teared up as he knelt, arm outstretched, gritting his teeth as the Dark Lord painfully etched his mark into Regulus' pale skin. He wished he was different, but Regulus knew it was too late. He was hurtling head-first down a dark path that he was sure could only lead to his death.

The youngest Death Eater to date, Regulus Black returned to Hogwarts in 1977, extremely conscious of the mark on his left hand. It'd been a year since Sirius had left and Mother had forced Regulus' hand in several matters. As the Heir of House Black, Regulus was introduced to the family's numerous businesses and was often forced to spend time at the Black Mansion with his grandfather Arcturus. Regulus often found himself wondering how his brother was, and if his demeanor at school was anything to go by, he was much happier than he had ever been before. A tiny part of Regulus' heart felt angry that his brother had left him to deal with the aftermath. Between Mother's uncontrollable temper and her fits of sobs whenever she thought of her oldest son, Walburga Black had become an unstable woman that could be set off by the slightest of things, like a ticking time bomb. But Regulus could not begrudge Sirius his newfound happiness. One look at the older boy and Regulus could tell that his move to the Potter's mansion had lifted years off his shoulders. The crease that used to almost permanently mar his forehead was gone, and his crooked smile reached his bright silver eyes when he mingled with his friends.

The final wave of reality hit Regulus in 1978, when Sirius and his merry band of friends finally graduated from Hogwarts. Regulus remembered walking through the halls on his brother's last day of school with a single thought in mind: he was never going to see Sirius again. It wasn't something that he would normally be certain about, but as Regulus recalled the paths that Sirius and him had chosen, the realisation that they were both going into a brewing war at opposing sides hit him hard. Sirius had signed up to train with the Aurors along with James Potter, whilst he was a part of the Dark Lord's inner circle despite having done absolutely nothing to deserve it except having been born in the right family. Sirius was being assigned patrol duties, watching out for Death Eaters attempting to attack Muggles or Muggleborns whilst Regulus was busy brewing potions and practising dark spells at the personal request of the Dark Lord.

It was on the last day of August in 1978 that Regulus Black made the first major change of his life of his own free will. Regulus who had, for as long as he could remember, been compared to Sirius and the rest of the Black family for having the same dark curls that framed their thin faces, decided to cut it off. He re-emerged from his room an hour later with short hair that barely covered his ears. It fell in disarray across his forehead and highlighted his angular chin. Now that his hair no longer fell to his shoulders, Regulus finally noticed the differences between himself and Sirius Black. His face was sharper and his features more pointed. He was slightly shorter and slimmer than his brother, and though his lips were fuller, their ends were turned down in a permanent sneer unlike Sirius, who was always a laugh away from a smile. He had the typical Black dark grey eyes that hid the small flecks of green that could only be seen up close. Regulus didn't think he had the elegance that came naturally to Sirius, but his heavy lidded eyes gave him a haughty, arrogant look that Mother greatly approved. And whilst both brothers held the same aristocratic features that defined the Black family, Sirius' seemed to have become softer, making him look far more approachable compared to Regulus.

Mother almost cried when she saw Regulus' new look the following day, but thankfully he didn't have to stick around to hear any of it. Regulus turned back to watch his mother wave goodbye to him as he left for Hogwarts for his final year.


	3. III: What Kind of Man

Regulus' last day at Hogwarts was simple. He spent most of it by the lake, walking around in his full Slytherin uniform, taking in everything he could and committing it to memory. The vast lands of Hogwarts, with the magnificent castle, it's lush lawns, the forbidden forest, the lake, the Quidditch pitch - everything was breathtakingly beautiful to Regulus and his heart pined at the thought of never seeing any of it again. The sound of buzzing chatter as he walked through the halls, the smell of fertilizer in the greenhouses and the chill of the potions classrooms in the dungeons. He was going to miss it all. Most of all, he was going to miss the Slytherin dungeons. The cold, green-lit room comforted him more than he thought it would when he had first arrived at Hogwarts.

He stepped through the path that had opened to him when he uttered the password ' _Serpentine_ ' and strolled into the common room. He saw the faint outline of the giant squid in the window that looked out to the depths of the lake. As he entered the room that he shared with his fellow Slytherins, Regulus loosened his emerald and silver tie. He looked at himself in the long, ornate mirror. He looked every bit the rich, pure-blood scion that he was, with his crisp white shirt neatly tucked beneath a grey jumper vest that was lined with his House colours. He fiddled a little with the tiny House of Black crest that was pinned to his tie. A grey blazer with the Slytherin crest emblazoned on the breast pocket lay open under a clean and pressed black robe. Regulus wore an expressionless mask that let out a hint of arrogance, a look he had perfected before he'd even turned eleven. And yet, under the regality of it all, his eyes showed the terror and fear he felt of what was to come.

Regulus almost cried at the thought of giving up the comfort and safety of this great institution for the harsh reality of whatever awaited him outside these walls. He knew that, now that he had graduated, he would be expected to serve the Dark Lord in a more active way. He could no longer do the bare minimum and be let off without any consequences. His days of brewing potions were over - the Dark Lord had Severus for that, and the older boy's skills at the subtle art far exceeded his own.

He settled down in his room, waiting for the next meeting with the Dark Lord. Mother had refused to let him find a job. In her opinion, there was no job that was worth the effort of the Black Heir, besides serving his Lord. Even the family businesses were run by those Mother deemed _lesser_ Blacks - cousins and relatives who were related, but not directly, to the current Heir. Regulus seriously doubted his Mother's sanity, since he knew that grandfather Arcturus had a highly involved role in the company's daily operations, managing a few of them on his own. If the Black paterfamilias was willing to put in the effort and work, then why shouldn't Regulus? Regardless, he listened to his mother and kept his head down.

When the Dark Lord next summoned Regulus, the boy was left rather confused. The Dark Lord had requested for a house-elf, and at Bellatrix's nudge, Regulus had volunteered his own elf, Kreacher. He bowed deeply, stating that it would be an honour for Kreacher to assist the Dark Lord in any way possible, and the next day, Regulus arranged for Kreacher to meet his Master.

He had been very specific - Regulus told Kreacher to do everything the Dark Lord told him, and as soon as it was done, the elf was to return home to Grimmauld Place and tell him everything. Only when he was certain that Kreacher understood his instructions did Regulus let his family's aged elf go. He waited for what seemed like days, staring at the very spot that the Dark Lord had disapparated with his elf. He worried for the old elf, who had been his unsuspecting companion ever since Sirius had become friends with Potter. Regulus would never admit it out loud, but he had grown to care for the elf very much and was extremely worried about the sorts of torture that the Dark Lord was sure to put Kreacher under.

Hours later, a loud pop told him that Kreacher had returned. He ran to the entrance hall where he was met by a shaking and soaking wet elf with scratches all over his arms and a look of despair in his giant blue eyes. The hate that Regulus had been keeping within himself bubbled to the surface as he took in the sight of the pitiful elf before him. He cast a few healing charms on Kreacher before leading him to his bedroom at the top floor, giving the elf time to calm down before he recanted his tale.

Regulus' eyes widened with disbelief as Kreacher told him in detail exactly where the Dark Lord had taken him and what they had done there. He'd always known the Dark Lord was trying to make himself immortal, but this.. This was dark magic, the darkest out there - it'd been banned from Hogwarts, and the books on this particular branch of magic had been pulled from the libraries in all the various Black properties. If anyone had wanted to read them, they'd require permission from the Head of the House of Black. A single knock echoed across his room, jolting Regulus out of his thoughts. The room was completely silent, save for the occasional sobs that escaped the wrinkled elf.

Orion Black stood at the door, a leather-bound book held firmly at his side, his expression grim. He entered his son's room and cast a few spells non-verbally, which Regulus decided not to question as he looked on quizzically. He placed the book on the dressing table by the corner before walking to the edge of Regulus' bed, where Kreacher sat, still shivering slightly. And finally, he spoke.

"Kreacher. I have not disowned Sirius. If anything happens to me or Regulus, you are to listen to Sirius. He is the Heir Black."

Kreacher opened his mouth to argue but Orion continued speaking.

"You will listen to your mistress, but if Sirius ever calls, or if he returns here, you _will_ listen to him. And you will not speak a word of any of this to Walburga. Not what happened in the cave, nor what I just told you. Understood?"

Regulus' father held a strict expression that left no room for argument. Kreacher simply nodded and look at Orion as if he'd grown a second head. The house-elf disappeared with a loud pop when Father dismissed him, bringing the room to total silence yet again. He sat quietly on his plush, emerald armchair as his father paced his room before stopping with a loud sigh. He thought about what Father had said - Sirius hadn't been disowned, despite Mother having blasted his picture off the family tree.

"You mother cannot disown Sirius. She's not the Head of the family, nor the Heir. That'd be your grandfather and me. I've spoken to my father, and we.."

Orion Black heaved yet another sigh as he rubbed his face in his hands. The man looked far older than his almost 50 years of age. The lines on his pale face were even more prominent that Regulus had ever remembered it being. His jet black curls were now streaked with grey and a stubble that was dotted with greys had begun forming on his usually clean-shaven face. Regulus supposed he was right, the paterfamilias had absolute authority over everything that happened within the family. The heir, similarly had some authority, including the right to disown a family member. Sirius had been known as Heir Black to most, but strictly speaking, the title belonged to his father, and his brother had only been 2nd in line. Nevertheless, it was tradition for the firstborn son of the newest generation to be treated as Heir and that was exactly what Orion and Walburga had done.

"You mother is still a staunch believer, that may never change. My father, however, has begun to see the error in the Dark Lord's ways. There are things that should never be touched, no matter the circumstances. Every pure-blood knows that - there are rules to be followed."

Orion paused, twirling the large gold ring that lay on his right middle finger

"And yet, the Dark Lord somehow managed to break all those rules. You know as well as I do, that the purity of your blood should be reflected by the purity of your skin. The Dark Lord defiled each and every one of you when he placed that _mark_ of his on your arms."

The vein in Orion's temple throbbed lightly as his breathing got heavier, his voice getting lower and angrier.

"He defiled his soul when he created those.. Those.."

"Horcruxes?" Regulus offered.

" _Yes._ " Orion spat the word out and shuddered. "Horcruxes are magic so dark.. They'd been taboo for a long time, and I don't believe they'd ever been covered by any school. But the books about them were only pulled shortly after I left Hogwarts."

Regulus had read of horcruxes - there were still books in the darkest corners of the Hogwarts library that mentioned them. But they didn't give too much information, other than the fact that they were extremely dark, highly dangerous and forbidden. He gulped, thinking about how far the Dark Lord was truly willing to go. A plan began to formulate in his head.

"They're pieces of your soul." Regulus' head jerked up so that his wide eyes met his father's weary ones.

"You split your soul by committing murder and then hide it in an object. You cannot truly die so long as that part of your soul lives." Orion's voice was dangerously low. Regulus pondered on this revelation. If he was right, the Dark Lord may have created more than one horcrux. The thought of anyone splitting their soul once sent shivers down Regulus' spine, but more than once? Regulus felt like he was about to throw up. He was sure he looked a little green.

"That book there," Orion titled his head towards the book on the dresser that he had brought in with him, "is one of the only few the Black library has on the matter. There were others but they were.. Enchanted." His nose wrinkled slightly. "We, that is my father and I, believe it's in parseltongue, but neither of us speak the language so.."

Regulus wondered if the book mentioned how to get rid of them and almost as if his father could read his mind, he replied in the negative.

"It really isn't very informative, and for good reason I guess. Says you'd have to commit an act of great evil to split your soul and goes on to describe how to capture it in an object. But nothing much on how to destroy it, save for the killing curse. Unfortunately, that only works if you created that horcrux yourself." His father didn't say much more, choosing to leave Regulus in his thoughts as he quietly exited the room.


	4. IV: What the Water Gave Me

Regulus sat in his chair for about an hour before he made his mind up. He skimmed through the old book but it didn't do much to change his decision. He walked into the drawing room, rummaging through one of the many chests of drawers before finding an old locket that was a Black family heirloom. Returning to his bedroom, he took out his inkwell and a quill and begin writing on a small bit of parchment he had lying around.

' _To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.'_

He signed off as R.A.B, his initials rather than his full name. Regulus wasn't under the illusion that he would make it out of this alive. He knew that more likely than not, he'd die in that cave. But he'd be damned if he lived to see another day where Voldemort's horcruxes still existed. His father didn't say what he was planning, now that he knew about the horcrux. Then again, Regulus doubted that his father had thought that the Dark Lord would create more than just the one. He folded the parchment into a tiny square and placed in inside the Black locket.

Pulling yet another roll of parchment towards himself, he began writing.

' _The Last Will and Testament of Regulus Arcturus Black'_

The document was short and simple. Everything he owned, and everything that would, in the future, be willed to him was to go to Sirius Orion Black, his older brother. Should Sirius not survive him, though Regulus highly doubted that, it was to go entirely to his cousin Andromeda Tonks and her husband and daughter, Ted and Nymphadora. He specifically stated that Bellatrix Lestrange and, by extension, the Lestrange family was to be barred from the Black family vaults, as was Lucius Malfoy. Regulus knew that Lucius was a part of the Dark Lord's inner circle, and he did not want a single knut falling into his hands. He didn't exclude Narcissa, though - Regulus still had a soft spot for the youngest of the three sisters, who had always been kind to him. She would still be able to access the Black vaults, if she wanted, but being married to a Malfoy, Regulus was sure she had more than enough gold to last several lifetimes.

Regulus rolled the parchment up and tied it to his scops owl, Dane and watched as the bird took off for Gringotts Bank. He wasn't sure if his attempts to bar Bellatrix from the Black wealth would work, but he figured he'd give it a try anyway. He walked up to his wardrobe, and pulled out his long, emerald cloak, which he wore above a grey sweater with the Black family crest on it. Running his hand through his short hair, Regulus sighed. He was hyper aware of the fact that he may not make past the night, but he had to try regardless.

He hollered Kreacher's name and the old elf appeared before him, looking much better than he did a few hours before. Kreacher's face at Regulus' request would've been funny, had the situation not been this solemn. The old elf's eyes bulged as he stared in shock. His lips began trembling as tears began to form in his eyes. His master had asked him to return to the cave, the cave where he had been made to cut his hand to smear blood on a wall and then forced to drink that vile potion. Disappointment began creeping its way onto the elf's face and Regulus shuddered at how subservient their race had been forced to become.

The journey to the cave was quick, with Kreacher's elf magic getting the pair through the various wards that the Dark Lord had put in place. They stopped right before the last barrier and Regulus' actions then brought Kreacher to tears yet again. The elf almost had a fit when his master conjured a knife, but as Regulus smeared his own blood on the cave wall, Kreacher was caught between worry for his master and relief that he wasn't being asked to hurt himself again. Entering the cave, it didn't take long for Regulus to figure out how they were supposed to get to the stone basin in the centre. There was a small boat, only big enough for a single adult to fit on it, and Regulus did not doubt that the Dark Lord had placed charms and spells on it to ensure that it fit no more than one. But he also knew that the Dark Lord greatly underestimated anyone he thought was beneath him, like house elves. So, with a loud pop, Kreacher apparated Regulus and himself to the small island which glowed an ethereal green.

When they got to the centre, Regulus took out his wand thoughtfully. No matter how many spells he threw against the basin, it did not budge. He sighed. He'd hoped that what Kreacher had told him had been but an exaggeration of the truth. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord had indeed warded the basin against magic by any other hand - the potion had to be drunk.

"Kreacher, I want you to listen to me carefully. You will do as I say, and you will tell no one else about tonight. Understood?"

At the elf's hesitant nod, Regulus conjured a silver goblet and dipped it in the liquid, feeling both relieved and terrified.

"I will drink this. You must make sure I finish it all."

Kreacher began shaking his head, looking almost like he was going into a trance or having a fit. The elf sputtered, knowing the effects of that dreadful potion and refusing to allow his master to suffer the same fate.

"No, Kreacher. I must drink it. I order you to force me to finish it, no matter what I say after this. When I'm done, you will take the locket. You will place this one in." Regulus took out the locket with the note in it. It was not an exact replica, he was sure, but it didn't matter. He placed the Black heirloom around Kreacher's neck.

"You will place that locket in and you will do anything in your power to destroy the other. Do you understand me? It will be hard to destroy, but you must promise me that you will try everything."

The old elf bowed his head, tears welling up in his large blue eyes for the umpteenth time that day. He would have no choice but to follow - an elf could not disobey a direct order from their master.

"But Kreacher, the most important thing is that you mustn't tell anyone about this. Not about what happened, not about the locket, nothing. No one can know. Especially not my family."

And with that, Regulus began drinking the emerald potion. Cup after cup, the memories assaulted his senses. Regulus cried for Kreacher to stop. He cried for his brother, whom he missed greatly. He cried for his father, who he'd only just seen in a new light. The pain overwhelmed him, and every single regret he had was suddenly in the forefront of his mind, reminding him of what could have been.

When he was down to his last few cups, an intense thirst took over his senses. He was parched and all he wanted was a cool glass of water. As Kreacher fed him the last of the potion, he reached down to the lake. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he knew this was a terrible idea. But the scorching ache he felt left him little room to think of much else, so he lowered himself to the side of the lake, cupped some water in his hands, and drank. The cool water soothed him more than he thought it would, and he craved more.

In his fervour to drink, he failed to notice the dark, bony figures creeping up towards him within the water. He did not even hear Kreacher's screams. It was only when a skeletal hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder did he jolt out of his stupor. But, it was too late. Before he knew it, Regulus was in the water, thousands of bony hands grabbed him from every direction, pulling him under the surface.

"Kreacher! Go! Do as I told you! Leave! Now!"

A loud pop echoed, preceded by a huge sob. The crying elf appeared in the drawing room of the Grimmauld Place, where a new set of numbers had appeared on the tapestry.

Regulus Arcturus Black (1961 - 1979).


End file.
